Dear Family,

I love and miss you all so, so, so much.  I can’t even begin to describe how much I wish I was with you all in Evanston this Christmas.  I’m kicking Kassel from three-to-four months ago who thought, “No I think I want to spend another Christmas in Peru and use my vacation days on other trips.  It’ll be too hard to see everyone and have to go back to Peru.”  Silly girl didn’t realize that come Dec. 20^th, all she’d be wanting was cold weather, the chance of snow, gumbo, and her family all around her. 

But since I can’t be with you on Christmas itself (although hopefully the internet and cell service has given me a chance to hear all your voices by this time) let me just say via email and whoever printed this off and is reading it, that I wish you all a MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!  I can’t wait until Christmas 2015 when I get to be with you all.  I will be coming with two years of bottled up and unused Christmas cheer.  Get ready for it.

Hugs to everyone!  Enjoy the last minute shopping, the food, the music, the ridiculous numbers of presents, the awkward political discussion at Christmas dinner, Santa’s hints (hear, hear to having David and Anna still be under 18!) and each other’s company!  Seriously.  I am missing all of that and more! 

Love you guys.  Until next year,

Merry Christmas!

Kassel

Christmas Cheer!

My Christmas tree, beautifully arranged by my youngest host sister.  I’m not sure if the colors were intentional, but regardless, excellent timing Nicoll!

And in a surprising turn of events, it’s snowing in Huantar! D’awww.

  

Besos!

Tuberculosis (Dec. 20th, 2014)

Ya’ll ready for an anecdote?

So today I went to my health post to return the projector I use for movie nights.*  My plan was to walk in, drop it off, and walk right back out in order to return to my pressing plans of rearranging my sock drawer.  Alas, I was, almost immediately upon putting my foot in the door, asked if I could help fill out some forms.  With a silent apology to my sock drawer, I admitted** I was free and able. 

The nurse tech showed me what she wanted to fill out—tuberculosis test forms.  I had to decipher her chicken scratches from the registry, write down the patient information in the appropriate boxes, and check out which test was to be performed.  A very straightforward task and, more importantly, no moral conundrums to be found.***

As I was wrapping up, the tech returned and asked if I could help her staple the forms.  Again, I could, and so with the last bit of info written up, I gathered up the papers and followed her to the second floor. Enter the moral conundrum.****

The nurse tech was taking the slides with the dried sputum on them and wrapping them in paper and then stapling the slides to the forms.  That would be all well and good, but as I helped her I noticed that the slides didn’t have any identifying marks, letter, number, or otherwise, to show what patient form they should be stapled to. Even more troubling was the fact that she didn’t seem to be reading the patient forms, or picking up the slides in any sort of organized fashion.  And, upon being asked how she knew which slides belonged to which patient, she began to giggle and say that well the slides were in alphabetical order, but she didn’t really have time to match each slide up to the correct patient, and anyways, they were all going to come back negative so what did it really matter anyway?  And she really had to get these done in the next ten minutes, because they had to be taken to San Marcos in order for the test to be done.

Well, if they all come back negative, I suppose it wouldn’t really matter anyway.  But on the off-chance that one does come back positive, (and presumably these samples were taken because the patients in question presented signs of tuberculosis), there will be no way of knowing if that person actually has tuberculosis.  And if the wrong person gets diagnosed I have a sneaking suspicion that no one is going to bring up this little incident.  What could very likely happen is that a tuberculosis-free person gets treated and whoever may have tuberculosis will continue walk and talk, and very likely will not return to the health post because they already coughed up some phlegm and no news is good news, right? 

Welcome to Peruvian healthcare.  Where it’s more important to get the paperwork in on time than to get it done right.

Besos!

*(Those readers who remember the whole cord debacle, will be pleased to know that I bought both the necessary cords and now manage to sit through movie nights with hardly any murderous thoughts whatsoever.) 

**It literally (and I mean literally in the literal sense) just took me thirty seconds to remember how to write admit.  I got to adi and stalled because somehow (thanks be to god) I knew that wasn’t quite right.

***Besides that of patient confidentiality, but I’m the only one who seems to think that patients have any confidentiality.

****Actually, I’m not sure if moral is the right word, but I think you get the gist. 

Street Paintings in Lima

Over Thanksgiving and for the first week of December I was in Lima.  The volunteers were all staying in Miraflores, the most touristy part of the city.  We do this because the tourist part of the city has things like falafel and grocery stores with Heinz ketchup and Honey Bunches of Oats.  The appeal is obvious. 

It also has people selling souvenirs and art.  As a friend and I walked along a block, admiring and occasionally harshly judging the art, I noticed that there was an abundance of paintings of Cusco, of Machu Picchu, of women in traditional Quechua garb, of bright-eyed Peruvian children in traditional clothing, and of llamas.  And I have wonder, do all these artists really feel compelled to continue paint these already well-recognized symbols of Perú? Does it fill an artistic need of theirs? Do they paint them because they enjoy it, or because they think they’ll sell?  Do they all have secret stores of paintings that are of things other than women in skirts and hats selling potatoes? Is Machu Picchu and llamas what they think of when they think of Perú?

Besos!

Jumping Rope

One afternoon I stumbled upon a gaggle of children jumping rope.  “Señorita Keisi, Señorita Keisi,” they called out. “Do you know how to jump rope?”

“I do, I do,” I called back.  “But it has been years since I engaged in such carefree and childish endeavours,” I added as a caution.

Before long I was jumping the rope.  I jumped in, I jumped out, I turned myself about, and subsequently forgot whether I was jumping rope or doing the hokey-pokey.  As I jumped, rhymes from my childhood sprang back into memory.  Perhaps you’re familiar?

“Cinderella dressed in yella

Went downstairs to kiss her fella

Made a mistake and kissed a snake

How many kisses did it take?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5….”

Or maybe,

“Fudge, Fudge, call the judge

Momma’s having a baby

Boy, girl, two-headed squirrel,

Boy, girl two-headed squirrel…”

And yes, I am sure that it was two-headed squirrel that shouted on the blacktop of my elementary school in Wisconsin.  The rhyme was undoubtedly influenced by some traumatic hunting trip or another had by jump-ropers of years past.

I began to yell out the English rhymes as the kids jumped.  And before long, I was taught the Spanish equivalents.  I was told that they are meant to be sung in this particular order.

A, B, C, D, [hasta que ella hace un error]                    A, B, C, D, [until she makes a mistake]

Ayer de noche te vi                                                     Last night I saw you

Con __________ [un chico que tiene un                       With ________ [a boy who has a name that

nombre que empieza con la letra]                                starts with the letter]

Dime cuantos besos te dio                                          Tell me how many kisses he gave you

1,2,3,4,5, etc.                                                              1, 2, 3, 4, 5, etc.

Ana Maria [o cualquier nombre] se fue al colegio       Ann Mary [or whatever name] went to school

Dime de cuantos notas te sacaran                               Tell me what grades you got

01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, etc. [Hasta 20]             01, 02, 03, 04, 05, etc. [Until 20]*

La vaca lechera le dijo lechon                                     The milk told the milkman

Pagame la muelta de mes de                                       Pay me the tax from the month of

Enero, Febrero, Marzo, Abril…                                  January, February, March, April….

[doblar en el mes de tu cumpleanos]                           [turn on your birthday month]

Osito Barney salta con un pie                                     Little Bear Barney jumps on one foot

Salta con dos pie                                                        Jumps on two feet

Date una vuelta entera                                                Spins all the way around

Hasta salir, salir, salir, salir                                        Until he leaves, leaves, leaves, leaves

Lucho Cartucho mató a su mujer                                Lucho Cartucho killed his wife

Con cinco balazos lo hizo volar                                  With five bullets he made fly

Con uno, con dos, con tres, con cuatro, con cinco.      With one, with two, with three, with four…

Niña cochina lávate bien                                             Dirty girl, wash yourself well

Pénate bien                                                                  Brush your hair well

Date una vuelta entera hasta salir                               Spin all the way around until you leave

Salir, salir, salir, salir, salir                                           Leave, leave, leave, leave, leave.

Besos!

*The Peruvian school system grades on a system of 1-20. 18-20 is the equivalent of AD (the highest), 14-17 is an A, 10-14 is a B, and less than 10 is a C.

Blast from the Past

That time I ate pig skin:

Besos!

A video

I just posted a new video update for my very best friend Shaina up on youtube.  It can be found here.

Enjoy!